


I Care

by lazermonkey



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz is a volunteer, M/M, Non-Magical, Sick Fic, sick au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazermonkey/pseuds/lazermonkey
Summary: “We aren’t contagious, you know.”Baz startled, turning abruptly from the sanitizer machine to see a pale, freckled boy with golden curls.“I don’t underst- ”“I saw you walk out of each of those rooms, practically rubbing your hands raw with anti-bacterial. We have cancer, arsehole, not the plague. Get over yourself.” The freckled boy moved past Baz, intentionally bumping his shoulder as he walked by..oO0Oo.Baz is volunteering at a hospital in order to graduate from high school. He's put in the Oncology department and instantly regrets volunteering at the hospital. Until he meets a few patients who help him learn to care and how to be cared for..oO0Oo.I can't write summaries, oops. The title is also a work in progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will say right now that I have never been in the medical field, nor spent much time in a hospital. I got the idea for this fic one day while watching a medical show and decided to write it! I will be doing as much research as possible to make sure this fic is accurate. Please let me know if something is inaccurate or needs to be re-written because I will change it asap! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As the transparent sliding doors of Watford Health Center opened, the scent of lemon cleaning products and bland food escaped, welcoming anyone who stepped foot inside. Tall, floor-to-ceiling windows let sunlight into the large reception area, with pale green walls blocking off different sections to the hospital. There were off-white leather couches, green canvas chairs, and various colored tables strewn about, attempting to make the open space feel more inviting.

Basilton Pitch had never wanted to leave a place so quickly.

He was barely three feet in the entryway when his skin began to crawl. The idea of so many people being incubated in one building, germs and illness contaminating the atmosphere, was enough to make Baz never want to breathe or touch anything ever again.

Hesitantly, one foot slowly after another, the black haired boy made his way to the front desk, which was made up of three large desks in the shape of a circle, sitting in the middle of the room. He went to place his hands on the counter, but thought better of it, not sure whose skin had touched it previously. A simple cough, to get the receptionist’s attention, and Baz went back to holding his breath.

The receptionist gave Baz a warm smile, “what can I do for you, sweetie?”

Baz mentally cringed at the name but tried to flash her an unstrained smile. From the look that shifted on her face, he didn’t seem to be succeeding. “I’m here to volunteer for Watford Academy.”

Her face lit up, “great! You’ll need to fill out some paperwork before you go upstairs, so if you don’t mind,” she handed Baz a clipboard, “just answering some questions, and you’ll be good to go!”

He gave her a curt nod before taking a seat at one of the uncomfortable canvas chairs. It was a basic questionnaire about his health, a form that made him promise he wouldn’t steal anything or abuse any of the advantages he had as a volunteer, and finally, an affiliate form to confirm he went to Watford Academy. He was to have the latter paper signed by the next visit.

With the papers filled out and returned to the receptionist, he was told he would be volunteering on the eighth floor. He looked at the floor directory as he waited for the lift;  _ Floor 8 - Child Oncology _ . 

The lift ride up felt long and nerve-wracking, making a stop at almost every floor and allowing anxiety to work its way into Baz’s mind and body. He was tapping his fingers on his thigh, adjusting his messenger bag,  _ re-adjusting _  his messenger bag, and attempting to distract himself with his phone.

When the lift finally stopped and the digital sign read  _ Floor 8 _ , Baz swallowed thickly and stepped into the soft, yellow environment. Someone whizzed by, almost bumping into Baz from their rush. He started to apologize but the person - a nurse, he assumed - had disappeared around a corner before he even opened his mouth.

Baz made his way to the reception desk of  _ this  _ floor (why did a hospital need so many reception desks?) and lingered, swaying on his feet. He watched as men and women in yellow and blue scrubs passed by, some with a clipboard in hand, others with a coffee cup. He took a moment to look around, hoping to learn a little bit more about this department. Almost all of the walls were bare except for the wall next to the elevator. An explosion of color was spread across that wall, full of many different doodles and phrases. In the middle of the mural was the name of the department, painted in beautiful cursive.

“What can I help you with, kid?” A masculine voice came from his right and his head snapped over quickly. An older man in blue scrubs had one eyebrow raised, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. He wasn’t intimidating, necessarily, but he definitely left Baz confused and searching for words. “Um, volunteer? I’m… a volunteer. Watford Academy.” Baz managed to stutter out.

“Name?”

“Basilton Pitch.”

 

The nurse went behind the reception desk and grabbed some papers off of a printer. He shuffled them until they were orderly, then scanned over the information.

“Tyrannus?”

Baz grimaced but nodded.

The man hummed and typed some things into the computer below him, followed by a quick scribble onto something else. In one quick motion, he emerged from the desk, slapped something onto Baz’s chest and gestured for him to follow.

“You’ll have a proper name tag in a day or two, but for now, you’ll have a paper one,” he handed a paper to another nurse that was passing by before continuing to Baz, “I’ll show you around this department and give you rules and instructions. You must follow all of them or Watford Academy will be contacted.”

Baz attempted to keep up with the fast pace of the walking and the words, but he seemed to be losing in both aspects. He kept bumping into other people that crowded the hallway and could only hear every other word his instructor nurse was saying.

“My name is Jameson, don’t forget it.”  _ Jameson,  _ Baz made a mental note.

As he was given a brief tour of the floor, he was informed that the department was for cancer patients between the ages of ten and eighteen. They also stopped by a few of the patient’s rooms. AJ, a spunky fifteen-year-old who had only been there a few months, left a strong impression on Baz. “You look like you’re from the book Twilight,” she had told him as soon as he walked in.

He was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

There was a smirk curled on her lips as she rephrased herself. “You look like a vampire, dumbass. You’re all pale and shit.”

Baz rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the twitching up of his mouth.

Then there was Sammi, an eleven-year-old who loved listening to classical music and wanted to learn how to play the cello.

“I play the violin,” Baz had told him. The smile that grew on the little boy’s face made Baz’s heart warm.

“Can you play it for me sometime?” Sammi asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Baz looked over at Jameson with a questioning look. Jameson’s features were still flat, but he gave a shrug that gave Baz an ‘okay.’

Finally, they stopped by Agatha’s room. Agatha was a beautiful eighteen-year-old with long blonde hair and a smile that could light up the whole world. Her eyes sparkled when she saw Baz. “Agatha Wellbelove,” she held out her hand.

Baz hesitated, staring at her hand for a few moments before slowly reaching out. His grip was non-existent - her fingers grasped tightly around his, moving their hands up and down. “Baz,” he coughed out.

“You’re a new volunteer here, huh? I hope you’ll stay awhile,” she smiled sweetly, but Baz could hear something behind her soft words. She was trying to flirt with him.

Baz returned a strained smile and waved curtly as he left. As soon as they exited the room, he found the nearest sanitizer machine and cleaned his hands thoroughly.

He was then shown some of the utilities closets and storage rooms, all of the restroom locations, and the door to access the Greenhouse balcony. Baz decided that the Greenhouse was going to be his favorite part of the entire floor. The balcony was made up of different forms of greenery; from rose bushes to lavender plants, from berry shrubs to small trees. There was a small walkway in the middle of everything and a couple of scattered picnic tables. “This area is for patients only. You are only allowed out here when you are taking patients to or from the balcony. Understood?”

A soft huff escaped Baz’s lips but he agreed nonetheless.

When they returned to the receptionist desk, Jameson rattled off more rules and instructions that had Baz’s head spinning. He wasn’t going to remember a single thing and was no doubt going to mess something up.  _ I shouldn’t have volunteered here… _  he thought to himself. This was a huge mistake.

When Jameson was done talking, Baz was finally able to take a breath. “Welcome to the eighth floor, kid. Your first task is to check up on the other patients you haven’t met yet and see if they need anything. It’ll also help you get acclimated to the place. If you need help, ask anyone but me.”

With that, he disappeared behind a pair of double doors with a red stripe across the middle; a section of the floor that Baz was  _ never _  allowed to go into.

Baz looked down at his nametag and scowled at the atrocious handwriting. He ripped off the paper tag and threw it in the closet bin, sneaking behind the desk and throwing his messenger bag under the desk and out of the way. He grabbed a new name tag and snatched up a Sharpie, scrawling  _ Baz _  in perfect cursive and putting it where the old name tag was.

When he looked up, he suddenly had an uneasy feeling in his gut. He looked around haphazardly, unsure of where to start or how to approach his first task.  _ Check in on the patients. That’s all you have to do. Introduce yourself, ask if they need anything, and get out of there as quickly as possible.  _ He sucked in a deep breath and tried to remember the different routes Jameson took them down. He figured it was easiest to start with the first room he saw.

It quickly became routine. Introduce, ask, leave, sanitize. Introduce, ask, leave, sanitize.  _ Introduce, ask, leave, sanit- _

“We aren’t contagious, you know.”

Baz startled, turning abruptly from the sanitizer machine to see a pale, freckled boy with golden curls. The thought of running his fingers through that golden hair made its way into the back of Baz’s mind. But the boy had a frown on his face and his forehead was scrunched in frustration, making Baz regret the thought. His arms were crossed over his chest and his breathing seemed a bit irregular as if he had just gone for a run.

Then he remembered that the beautiful boy talked to him and immediately started to defend himself. “I don’t underst- ”

“I saw you walk out of each of those rooms, practically rubbing your hands raw with anti-bacterial. We have cancer, arsehole, not the plague. Get over yourself.” The freckled boy moved past Baz, intentionally bumping his shoulder as he walked by.

Baz’s eyes narrowed as he watched the boy enter the room that was next on Baz’s list. He felt his ears go hot with anger as made his way to the partially opened door, shoving it open to see the boy hopping into his bed. When the boy looked up, he had a scowl on his face. “What do you want?”

Baz was suddenly at a loss for words. He was ready to defend himself, but as he opened his mouth, nothing came out. The boy spoke again, “sod off, will you?”

That fueled Baz’s anger even more. “You have no right to judge me or my actions. Maybe - maybe I just - want to be extra clean, okay?!”  _ Graceful, Baz. _

The boy scoffed. “I’ve seen people like you come and go. You’re a volunteer, right? Watford Academy?”

“What the hell is your problem?” Baz’s voice echoed through the room.

The boy was off of his bed, making his way toward the volunteer. When they were only a few inches away, a finger was being pushed into the taller boy’s chest. Baz easily had two inches on the kid; he made a mental note. “My  _ problem _  is rich pricks like you who walk in here, pretend to care about us and help out the staff, just for a pretty award and piece of paper when you graduate. My  _ problem _  is that you walk in here with your posh fucking uniform and posh fucking accent and act like you own the place. My  _ problem  _ is that you don’t give two flying fucks about anyone here except yourself and  _ you _  don’t even have the audacity to hide it.”

He was out of breath now, his face glowing bright red. He was visibly shaking and looked as if he was about to collapse. But Baz kept his defense up. He opened his mouth to respond, but the kid went off again.

“I can’t believe there are people still out there that think you can  _ catch _  cancer, like bloody hell, don’t you ever - ” The boy was sweating bullets and wobbling on his feet.

Baz quickly grabbed onto the boy’s elbows to stabilize him, any feeling of anger being washed away with concern. He pulled the curly haired boy to the bed and helped him up, wiping away the hair that was sticking to his forehead. “Do I need to call a nurse? Do I need to get you anyth- ”

A hand was held up in front of his face, signaling Baz to stop talking. So he did. “I’m… I’m fine. Just… just go… get a nurse.” The boy’s voice was raspy.

Baz nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. As he approached the door, he remembered something, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow.”

And with that, Baz was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in the medical field, nor spent much time in a hospital. I got the idea for this fic one day while watching a medical show and decided to write it! I will be doing as much research as possible to make sure this fic is accurate. Please let me know if something is inaccurate or needs to be re-written because I will change it asap!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The next afternoon, Baz’s thoughts were cloudy. Stepping into the hospital caused a rush of memories from the day before.

_ “Simon Snow. He’s - he almost collapsed - I don’t - ” Baz had grabbed the nearest nurse and started pulling her toward Simon’s room. He wasn’t exactly sure what happened and he couldn’t seem to find the words to explain. _

_ She seemed to have less of an urgency than Baz, but she let herself be dragged along anyway. When they reached the room, the nurse nudged past the dark haired boy to get to Simon first. Her hand found his forehead, but Baz couldn’t see much else. The boy in the bed mumbled something to the nurse that made her to laugh and she gave him a soft reply. Baz couldn’t hear a single word and was almost desperate to know what the short interaction was about.  _

_ “Is he okay?” Baz finally asked. _

_ The nurse turned to him as if she just remembered he was there. “He’s fine. He had just another chemo session and the side effects must have kicked in a bit quicker this round. Don’t worry.” _

_ She turned back to the weak boy and murmured something else, before pulling up his blanket and exiting the room. There was a small smile curled onto the boy’s lips and his eyes were closed.  _

_ Baz wanted to ask if was okay, if he needed anything at the moment, but it didn’t feel right to say anything else, so he quickly slipped out of the room. _

After that incident, he worried about Simon for the rest of his shift and even afterward. Had he caused the side effects of Simon’s chemo to appear quicker? Simon was infuriated with Baz; what Baz did, how he acted, just the  _ idea _ of Baz. 

_ You only care about yourself and you don’t even have the audacity to hide it. _

That wasn’t completely true… right? Baz cared. He cared enough to take the volunteer position at the hospital instead of picking up trash or something. That has to count, right?

He had a feeling that Simon Snow wouldn’t agree. 

When the lift finally sounded, indicating it had arrived, Baz’s mind snapped back to reality. He needed to focus today. He needed to make sure he didn’t make the same mistakes as yesterday. As the lift made its way to the correct floor, Baz tried to run through the instructions and rules in his mind, practically making himself dizzy. 

He shook his head as the lift stopped.  _ Focus _ . After exiting onto the floor, he greeted the staff he recognized and made a beeline for a room occupied by a bronze haired patient. 

The closer he got to the room in question, the slower his legs moved, and he came to a complete stop when he reached the door. His hand hesitated over the handle of the door; what was he going to say? Apologizing didn’t feel right, he wasn’t even sure if he did anything wrong. Ask if he’s okay? Well, that’s a dumb question, of course he’s not.

Fuck it.

He turned the handle, knocking quietly against the wood as he opened the door. Simon was sitting cross-legged on his bed, scribbling furiously into a book. Baz leaned against the doorframe and coughed gently, trying once again to get the boy’s attention.

Simon stopped what he was doing in order to look up and find the source of the sound, eyes narrowing when he saw the volunteer from yesterday. Silence filled the room, causing Baz to shift uncomfortably. “Hey.”

“What do you want?” The pencil in his hand was dropped haphazardly on to the book.

Okay. He was still upset then.

Baz’s gaze shifted around the room as he spoke, “I just… wanted to check in, I guess. After yesterday. How are you?” His eyes finally landed back on the freckled boy.

Simon rolled his eyes, “I’m peachy, thanks. I love feeling like shit so that drugs, that may or may not work, just fester in my body. It’s a great time.”

Baz stood up straight and crossed his arms. “I’m trying to make up for yesterday, okay? No need to be an ass about it.”

Simon scoffed, “make up for yesterday? You can’t make up for the fact that you’re only here to make yourself look good. So fuck off, yeah?”

Baz huffed, but didn’t respond, leaving the room. There was no way he could make this better.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Baz was given menial tasks.  _ Take this to room 854 _ and  _ Can you file these? _ Mostly scut work that the actual staff didn’t have time for. His favorite part of the day, however, was visiting a little girl in Room 818. 

One of the nurses had handed him a small, grey stuffed elephant to be delivered to the little girl. No one knew where it came from; it was sitting on the receptionist desk and was addressed to the patient in Room 818. 

The door was slightly open when he finally had time to stop by. He knocked on the door while  pushing it open, putting on his softest smile. The girl was on the floor on her stomach, surrounded by crayons and markers, scribbling into a book. Her head perked up at the sound of someone coming in and she smiled wide, showing her cutely crooked teeth. 

“Hi!” She said excitedly, repositioning herself into sitting position to get a better look at her visitor. 

“Hello,” Baz responded quietly, making his way over to the girl and joining her on the ground, crossing his legs. 

He held out the stuffed animal and watched as her face lit up even more. “Is it for me?” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence.

Baz chuckled lightly, nodding. “I’m not sure who it’s from, though.”   
  
“Probably from Mama! She gets me stuffed animals all the time.” The girl snuggled the animal to her chest, her chestnut colored curls swaying around her face. 

“Well why didn’t Mama deliver it to you herself?” Baz asked out of curiosity. It only seemed right that her mother would bring it directly, rather than have a nurse or some random volunteer deliver it. 

“Mama isn’t here anymore, but she still gets me stuffed animals from up in the sky!”

Baz’s breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart drop. She had lost her mother… just like he lost his. His head started swimming with memories and past nightmares and he closed his eyes, trying to force everything away. Thoughts of darkness and then a sudden flash of light. A scream and loud sobs. He couldn’t be thinking about this. Not now.

“What’s your name?” The little girl spoke again, breaking him out of his downward spiral.

He took a moment to recompose himself, remembering where he was and what he was doing. A smile returned to his lips as he responded, “Basil.” For some reason he felt that she would enjoy that version of his name more than the others.

“What kind of name is that!” She let out a burst of giggles. 

“Well what’s yours?”

“Natasha!”

The world stopped again, but only for a moment this time. “What a beautiful name. That’s was my mother’s name,” he told her gently, thinking she would delight in that small piece of information.

Her arms shot up in the air, “really! I bet your mama is wonderful, then.”   
  
Baz chuckled at that, “she was.”

She continued to ask him more questions, like where he went to school, what his favorite animal was, if he had siblings, and what his favorite color was.

“I don’t have a favorite color,” he admitted to her.

Natasha’s eyes went wide, “you don’t have a favorite color?!” she screeched, “Everyone has a favorite color!”

Baz shrugged, “none of them were interesting to me.”

She shook her head and pulled a face that indicated she was thinking hard. “I think… it’s purple!”

“Why purple?” Baz’s smile was very wide, now.

“Because it’s royal! Like your accent.” Everyone seemed to comment on his accent, yet he didn’t think it was that distinct. Or that big of a deal.

He started to respond when a voice came from behind him. “Natasha, time for your session, sweetie.”

Baz craned his neck to see the strict nurse that was his guide. But Jameson’s voice was soft now, compared to the harsh tone he had with Baz the previous day. Natasha hopped up from the ground and trotted over to the nurse, sending him a toothy grin. “Time to get better?”

Jameson sent her a sad smile, which Baz hoped that the little girl didn’t understand. “Yeah, sweetie, time to get better,” Jameson replied, holding out his hand.

She took it and started swinging their arms, chatting cheerfully as they disappeared around the corner. The elephant was still tight against the little girl’s chest.

Baz slowly got up from the carpet and took a moment to look around the room. The walls were decorated with pictures and drawings, a couple of vases of flowers were scattered around the room, and a pile of stuffed animals had a place at the foot of her bed. There was a cabinet in the corner, which Baz assumed was full of clothes and toys. 

When Baz exited the room and turned down the hallway, his grey eyes met with plain blue ones. “What were you doing in Natasha’s room?”

Baz was startled, confused as to why Simon was talking to him, but he quickly regained composure, putting on a scowl. “No worries,  _ Snow _ , I wasn’t stealing anything if that’s what you were insinuating.” 

A flash of hurt crossed Simon’s features, the small curl that was once on his lips disappearing immediately. “I wasn’t. I - I was just curious.”

Baz was hoping the other boy would just walk away, but he awkwardly lingered, as if waiting for the black haired boy to respond. 

The volunteer let out an inaudible sigh, which caused his face and shoulders to relax slightly. He kept his voice stern, “I was asked to bring her something, that’s all. She starting asking questions, and, well…”

“You couldn’t leave?” There was a hint of humour behind Simon’s words. 

Baz nodded, feeling laughter in his throat. He tried to keep down as he watched Simon give him a full smile. Baz couldn’t help but notice how alive it made him look. “She’s adorable. I couldn’t get away either, the first time I met her. She talks as much as I do, I swear.”

Reluctantly, a breathy laugh escaped from the volunteer. “At least she isn’t spitting out anger and profanities,” he blurted, immediately regretting the words as they came out.

Simon’s smile faltered and he just nodded slowly, eyes toward the ground. He ignored Baz’s remark. “They say she doesn’t have much time. The chemo isn’t working like it should be.”

Baz’s heard dropped for the second time that day.  _ Oh. _

“How do you know? How could you possibly know that?” Baz was getting worked up now. Simon was just messing with him, trying to get back at him. He had to be. “You aren’t supposed to know her medical records anyway, right? How do I know you aren’t lying to me? I swear- ”

“I overheard them talking one night,” Simon ran his fingers through his curls, “They’ve seen it so many times before. It’s a rough process, it takes a lot out of you and your body. They know what to look for - what it looks like.”

Baz wasn’t sure why he was so affected by the news. He had only met the young girl, yet he felt like bursting into tears.

_ Natasha. _ He felt drawn to the little girl. As if the girl had a piece of his mother in her. It felt as if his mother was there with him, watching over him and guiding him toward someone to care for like he cared for his mother. 

Baz took a shuddered breath in and turned quickly, not wanting Simon to see his reaction to the news; Pitches don’t show weakness. They don’t crumble over things like this. “Hey, are you oka- ” 

When Baz felt Simon’s fingers brush his skin, he bolted forward as if Simon had burned him. It was all too much.  _ Too much. _

He grabbed his messenger bag as quickly as he could and ran to the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiques, comments, and kudos are welcomed and encouraged!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in the medical field, nor spent much time in a hospital. I got the idea for this fic one day while watching a medical show and decided to write it! I will be doing as much research as possible to make sure this fic is accurate. Please let me know if something is inaccurate or needs to be re-written because I will change it asap!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The sound of wax against paper filled the air in Room 818 as Natasha drew free-hand pictures and Baz colored in one of her coloring books. Natasha was more tired than the previous day and the volunteer assumed it was because of her treatment. He was content with the silence between them, replying to her whenever she spoke first.

 “Do you like my house?” The small girl asked, her deflated curls bouncing as she shoved her picture in Baz’s direction.

The corners of Baz’s lips lifted as his eyes scanned the picture. The house was a soft purple color with turquoise grass surrounding it in tufts. Baz silently counted the rooms, 9 in total. The kitchen was tiny but the bedroom labeled “Natasha’s Room!” made up for it in size. Natasha’s room took up the entire third floor, covered with what looked like stuffed animals, a piano, and other toys.

The other rooms belonged to her parents and what Baz only assumed were friends of Natasha’s. He even saw Simon’s name scrawled next to a bright orange room, indicating it was his.

“It’s lovely,” Baz replied softly, handing back the paper.

Natasha took the paper back and set it off to the side gingerly before starting on her next piece. Baz started back on his drawing when a voice surprised him. “Hey Baz,” the volunteer turned in question before Nurse Linda continued, “Simon is eating lunch outside with Agatha today and I think he’s almost done. Do you mind helping him back to his room? He seemed a little dizzy earlier and could use the extra support.”

Baz nodded, “no problem.”

The nurse sent him a smile before disappearing. Baz set down the crayons he had, along with the coloring book, before ruffling Natasha’s hair. “I gotta go do my work now. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Natasha nodded as enthusiastically as she could as Baz stood up, making his way to the greenhouse balcony. He saw Agatha and Simon at a picnic table, Simon’s back to the window and saying something to make Agatha laugh. Baz’s heart clenched slightly at the sight.

It was only a couple moments later when Agatha started to rise from her position, Simon following. Baz was immediately at the door when the pair made their way through, reaching out to give the pale boy support.

“What are you doing?” Simon said, stepping back quickly as if Baz was going to hurt him.

“The nurse said you needed help, I’m just trying t-”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking to my room by myself,” Simon sneered.

“But the nurse said to - “

“I’m _fine,_ \- “ His sentence paused awkwardly, but somehow, Baz knew what he was going to say.

“Baz. My name’s Baz.” He tried again to put his arm around the other boy’s torso to help but Simon jerked back even further.

“Well, _Baz_. First of all, that’s a stupid name. Second, I can take care of myself.”

Baz gave an exasperated sigh but nodded, gesturing for the patient to make the trip back to his room. The bronze haired boy made it about a meter before stopping to lean against the wall, his chest moving heavily. Baz rolled his eyes and met up with the patient, muttering an “obviously” before wrapping his arm around Simon’s thin waist and pulling the boy’s freckled arm around his neck. The volunteer tried to ignore the fact that Simon fit perfectly against him, as well as trying to ignore the heat growing on his cheeks and the pounding of his heart.

Simon’s breaths grew shallow as they slowly trekked down various hallways to Room 834. When they arrived, Baz carefully laid the boy down on his bed, looking over him to make sure he was stable. Simon was trying to avoid his gaze. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know,” Baz told him.

“Not when everyone here looks up to me. I have to be strong. I have to be okay,” Simon’s voice was barely audible.

“It’s okay to not be okay. Sometimes it’s stronger to show that you’re weak. You can’t be okay all the time.”

Sad blue eyes finally met sad grey. “I can pretend to be.” Blue eyes fluttered closed.

Baz let out a slow breath, not wanting to argue any longer. The freckled boy was stubborn and the volunteer didn’t want to push him and make him more exhausted than he already was.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, okay?”

There was no response from Simon and Baz noticed the soft consistent rhythm of the patient’s breathing, realizing he fell asleep. He gingerly brushed the bronze curls away from his forehead and took his exit.

 

-*-

 

By the next week, Baz knew his way around the floor, knowing all the staff by name and he was finally able to keep up with the tasks given to him. He started to finally enjoy being a volunteer at the hospital. He enjoyed conversations with the patients when he had to visit them, he liked knowing exactly which storage room to go to for supplies, and they actually trusted him with storing and transferring files.

He was particularly energized that Wednesday, happily greeting staff that walked by when he exited the lift. He dropped his bag in its usual spot under the counter and immediately made his way to Natasha’s room. “Hey Little Puff,” Baz said as he entered the room, receiving a tired yet warm smile from his favorite patient.

She was lying on her bed, dolls at her feet and a stuffed animal in her hands. “Bazzy! Look what I got today!” She held up a light purple elephant.

His fingers gently grasped the elephant and gave it a small squeeze before handing it back. “Who’s it from?”

Natasha shrugged, “probably Mama!”

Baz nodded, giving a sad smile and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Does it have a name?”

“Lavender. She’s a girl,” Natasha informed him.

The smile on his lips grew warmer, “beautiful.”

They continued to talk, Baz asking how she was feeling and if she was going to play with any of the other kids that day. He was concerned with how tired she looked; it was the worst he had seen her. Occasionally she would have a burst of energy and talk very animatedly, wanting to run and play outside. Other days she would just sit in bed. That day, though, every movement she made was as if she was under water. She looked as if she was forcing her eyes to say open and her words were slow.

Baz told her jokes and funny anecdotes to get her spirits up before he had to bid her goodbye to work on his next task. When he turned the corner to go to the main desk, he saw something that made him stop in his tracks. Simon and Agatha were at the end of the hallway, fingers intertwined with both hands. They were standing closer than socially acceptable for friends and Baz recognized the look in Agatha’s eyes. Baz sucked in a harsh breath as he watched Simon lean forward and press his lips to hers, only for a brief moment. They both held lovestruck expressions, making Baz’s stomach drop.

He turned his gaze quickly and ignored the hollow feeling in his chest.

Baz made his way to the file cabinet behind the desk, grabbing large folders from the table beside it, reading names and inserting them accordingly. He was three files in when he heard his name. The voice was familiar and it caused Baz to hesitate, almost stopping mid-way to grabbing the next file.

He kept his eyes forward, hoping Simon would just take it as a defeat and leave. It came again, louder this time. “Hey Baz.”

The volunteer took a deep breath and finally grabbed the next file, continuing to ignore the other boy. The breath wasn’t released until he heard footsteps get quieter.

He returned to his previous rhythm. Grab, read, search, place. Grab, read, search, place. The ambient noise around him was comforting and allowed him to avoid any dangerous thoughts that threatened to creep into his head.

Until he was interrupted.

“Baz, can you send these to Room 834?” A nurse asked, dropping off a basket on the front desk.

The dark haired boy froze in his spot. _Room 834._ _Shit._

“Uh,” he started, trying to think a way out of the situation, “I have to finish this - ”

“It won’t take that long. Just a quick drop off, the files can wait,” the nurse replied impatiently, quickly typing something into the computer.

Baz sighed and dropped the current file he had back on the table. He snatched the handle of the basket and made his way to the assigned room. He peeled back the cloth napkin, only slightly, enough to catch a whiff of something delicious. In the corner of the basket, he saw a small hint of a baked good. His mouth was practically watering. He dropped the cloth and begrudgingly finished his journey to Simon’s room.

He entered the patient’s room without knocking, startling the boy that was cross-legged on his bed, reading. “Thanks for the heart attack,” Simon mumbled, going back to his previous activity.

Baz dropped the basket haphazardly on the boy’s bedside table, rushing to exit the room. But Simon continued talking. “What’s that?”

The volunteer halted, wiping his face. He turned to face Simon, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to know?”

Simon was sitting on the edge of his bed now, legs dangling off of the side.

“You didn’t look inside?”

Baz shook his head, "it's not mine."

The neutral expression on the freckled boy’s lips dropped to a frown as he reached for the basket. Baz waited for Simon to look inside the basket, watching as his plain blue eyes lit up at what it contained. The patient pulled out what appeared to be a scone and took a bite of it happily, making a sound that caused a shiver up Baz’s spine. Baz felt his cheeks and ears heat up but kept his features cold.

“They’re sour cherry scones,” Simon moaned, “so good.”

“Great, thanks for the info,” Baz huffed, attempting to leave once again.

“You want a bite?”

The dark haired boy paused again, trying to will his feet to move, to get out of the room. But Simon’s voice sounded genuinely kind and it made Baz want to stay. Still facing the door, Baz replied quietly, “no. It’s yours.”

“I have plenty, Baz. You’re free to have one.” Hearing his name fall from the boy’s lips made the volunteer turn.

“It’s quite alright.”

 Simon shrugged, “suit yourself.”

He inhaled the rest of the first scone and started on another, ignoring the fact that Baz was watching with intense focus. Baz watched how his lips curled around the pastry and then formed into a content smile. He ate with his mouth open (heathen) and continued to make small noises of happiness.

Suddenly, thoughts of Agatha flashed into his mind and how she was able to kiss those lips and probably elicit those same noises from him. His focus shifted to frustration and he couldn’t help but blurt, “so how’s Agatha?”

Simon’s chewing slowed down as he placed the half-eaten scone (his fourth one) back into the basket. He wiped his hands on his shirt. “She’s fine. Why?”

The was a glob of red on the side of Simon’s mouth and Baz had to ignore the indecent thoughts in his head.

“You two were looking comfortable the other day, that’s all.” His voice was harsher than he intended. All the better.

Simon glared, “why does it matter?”

“Are you two dating?”

“What if we are?” Simon had both feet on the floor now, making his way toward the taller boy.

“Just surprised is all. She’s way out of your league.”

Simon scoffed, “are you _jealous?_ ” He was only a couple of feet away now.

“Absolutely not,” Baz felt a smirk creep onto his lips, “I just feel bad for her is all.”

Simon’s jaw shifted before he shoved Baz back, taking the boy by surprise. Simon’s face was getting red and he was breathing heavily. A guilty feeling washed through the volunteer and he almost dropped the facade, but something was telling him to not back down. He just shouldn’t get the boy worked up anymore.

“Okay, Snow, calm down.” Baz held his hands up.

“I will not calm down. You have no right to say anything about my love life! At least I have one!”

That hit Baz in the chest like a bullet. His eyes narrowed, “you have no idea about my life.”

Simon stepped forward, their noses were practically touching now. “And you have no idea about mine. So piss off.”

“Gladly.”

Baz stormed out of the room, his mind swirling with anger and concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and critiques welcomed and encouraged! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Baz felt like a rubber band that had been stretched a bit too far. Two weeks of stress at school and tension at the hospital had built upon his shoulders, from maintaining his grades to avoiding Simon, and his biggest concern of all: Natasha. 

She had been at a really low point the week before, barely able to stay awake or put a smile on her lips. Baz tried to make her feel as comfortable and loved as possible, visiting every day and telling her stories even when she wasn’t awake. 

The past several days, she seemed to be getting better. She had enough energy to be excited when she saw Baz, even asking him to tell her a story that she could draw pictures too. Natasha knew how to brighten even his worst days. 

This day, in particular, he hoped would be no exception. 

Baz had woken up late that morning, his screaming siblings acting as his alarm clock. He had missed an important test that, luckily, he would be allowed to make it up.  _ “However,”  _ his teacher had told him,  _ “I will have to deduct points for missing the initial exam.”  _

Baz punched a wall on the way out of the school. 

He thought about skipping his shift today, but he already fucked up enough that day and didn’t want to make things worse. 

The atmosphere on the eighth floor was grim. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of Baz’s stomach as he stepped off of the lift. He threw his bag down and began rubbing his temples in an attempt to keep a headache from forming, his feet absent-mindedly carrying him to Room 818. 

The door was closed, which was very unusual, and immediately made Baz very concerned. The door opened with a creak, his eyes shifting around a deafeningly silent room. His chest tightened and he almost forgot to breathe. 

He stopped the first nurse that walked by, not noticing as she winced from his tight grip. “Where’s Natasha?” His voice was quiet. 

She placed her hand on the hand gripping her upper arm. He loosened his hand, sending a weak, apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Baz. I know how much she meant to you.” 

It felt as if the entire world came to a screeching halt. Baz’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach and he felt as if he was going to puke, along with a tingling sensation in his sinuses. 

His mind was a blur. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to act.  _ He didn’t know, he didn’t know, he can’t- _

Suddenly, he was in the lift, pressing a button without fully comprehending the number. His breath was now short and harsh, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

_ She’s gone. Mum, Natasha, they’re gone. Why can’t I keep the people I love in my life? Why does it always have to be this way? _

The next time the lift stopped, the doors opened to a dark gray stairwell. It wasn’t a place of the hospital he recognized, but he ran up the flight of stairs anyway. When he reached the door at the top, he yanked at the handle, ripping it open, as he didn’t expect it to be unlocked. As it slammed against the cinderblock wall, he tumbled through. 

He was on the roof; an open area made of concrete, littered with small poles and boxes made for electrical stuff. It was a perfect spot to hide. 

His soft sniffling had turned into full on sobs, tears and snot running down his face. He found a corner he thought was suitable and collapsed in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest. Hiccups racked through his body as he tried to catch his breath, head pounding and heart breaking. 

Everyone he cared for was gone from his life. His mother died, his father became an arse, his sister was barely allowed to talk to him, and now, sweet little Natasha. She was so  _ young. _ She didn’t deserve anything she was put through. The world never got to experience her joy, her sunshine, her beauty.

“Baz?” His head snapped up in surprise.

There was a blurry figure in front of him, the tears blocking his vision. He rubbed them away, fiery bronze hair becoming more clear. Baz was too upset and too exhausted to even attempt a glare, so he just put his head in his knees. 

Suddenly, there was warmth surrounding him. He jumped at the sudden touch, but quickly settled as fingers brushed along his arms, accompanied by a soft voice. “Baz, what’s wrong?”

Baz couldn’t speak, every ounce of energy he had was used to cry. But Simon stayed, arms wrapped around the broken volunteer. His fingers continued to rub along Baz’s arm, while others started to lace through his long, black hair. Simon then laid his chin against the back of Baz’s left shoulder, the slow rhythm of heartbeat seeming to calm Baz down.

The hiccups lessened to shallow breaths and gentle crying as Baz slowly composed himself. Soon, he was only taking deep breaths. The tears stopped, leaving red, puffy eyes and streaks cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Simon let out a sad laugh, Baz feeling the vibrations from the boy’s chest. His fingers came to a stop, but continued to rest on the boy. His voice was airy and directly next to Baz’s ear. “Why are you sorry?”

“For being like...like this.”

Simon shook his head, which was still resting against Baz’s shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re allowed to be sad.”

Silence surrounded them again and Baz finally emerged from his position. Simon shifted with him, as Baz sat back and left his hands resting on his knees. He was now leaning against Simon, the pale boy’s fingers never leaving his arm or hair.

“How’d you find me up here?” 

Simon’s fingers started moving again as he replied, “I saw you run to the elevator. I come up here, too, sometimes. When I need to get away from everything.”

Baz just nodded, mind racing with more questions. 

“She reminded me of my mum…” Tears started flowing down Baz’s face once again, “I… I thought I finally had a piece of her back. Why.. why’d she have to go, S-simon?” 

The patient shushed the boy, not wanting him to hurt from crying so roughly. Neither of them spoke again as Baz tried to calm down. He started focusing on the way that Simon was touching him. The way his calloused fingers ran so smoothly up and down his tanned skin. The way it felt to have Simon’s long fingers weave their way through his long locks. He focused on the way it felt to be properly cared for. The way his mother used to care for him.

At least, he hoped Simon cared for him. After all of this. 

He thought back to what Simon said earlier.  _ You’re allowed to be sad. _ A light chuckle fell from Baz’s lips.

“What?” Simon asked. 

Baz moved so he was sitting next to the pale boy, arms resting against each other, along with their knees barely brushing. There was a small smile on the patient’s lips. 

“You won’t take my advice, yet you come preaching it to me.”

A beautiful laugh erupted from Simon and Baz wanted to hear that sound forever. “You’re not wrong. Maybe you’re actually kinda smart.”  
  
“Kinda? Kinda?! I’ll have you know I’m top of my class,” Baz bantered.

Simon brought his hands up in mock-defense, “well excuuuse me, Mr. Smarty-Pants!” 

Baz laughed this time, feeling a wave of happiness rush through him. Simon poked him, “hey, you’re laughing, that’s a good sign.”

Baz’s eyes flicked to Simon’s mouth and back up to his eyes. He hoped that the boy didn’t notice. 

When Simon did the same thing, Baz’s heart pounded. 

The volunteer shook his head lightly, clearing away the dangerous thought in his head. He carefully stood up and stuck his hand down. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

Simon’s smile went wide now, taking Baz’s hand. “I have a better idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiques, comments, and kudos are welcomed and encouraged!


	5. Chapter 5

As Baz and Simon descended in the lift, they passed the Child Oncology floor, making the volunteer very confused. “Why is it still going?” Baz asked.

“Because we aren’t going back to my floor,” Simon said, a cheeky expression on his features.

When the doors opened to reveal the first floor, the patient started to exit, but Baz stayed halted in his spot. “You aren’t supposed to be down here, Snow,” Baz said carefully.

Simon rolled his eyes and grabbed Baz’s hand, pulling him out of the hospital. The dark haired boy looked around nervously, wondering if anyone was going to catch them, causing him to get kicked out of his volunteer position. “Don’t worry, Baz, no one cares.”

The volunteer released a breath as they successfully made it outside without a single word from anyone.

-*-

Baz couldn’t help but smile at the tingling sensation in his hand as Simon pulled him along the sidewalk. Their fingers weren’t laced - that was too far for their relationship. But the feeling of Simon’s hand in his still made him feel giddy. “Snow, where are we going?” Baz’s voice was playful.

Simon looked back at him with a large smile, “you’ll see!”

Moments later, Simon stopped them in front of a local cafe with a name that Baz didn’t recognize. “This is Ebb’s,” Simon informed him, “she has the _best_ scones.”

Simon pulled him inside, dropping Baz’s hand once they were through the entrance. The freckled boy rushed to the cash register while Baz lingered behind to take a look at his surroundings. The cafe was small but cozy. There were Autumn decorations up - fake leaves of different colors were taped to the walls, scarecrows coming out of various bins scattered around the store, and multi-colored pumpkins on every flat surface. Baz slowly made his way to Simon as a voice rang out from behind the counter. “Simon!”

As Baz got closer, he noticed a cheerful woman dressed in vibrant colors. Multiple piercings dressed her ears, along with clinking bracelets on her wrist and a headband keeping her bangs back. “What are you doing here, my boy?” The woman - Ebb, Baz assumed - gave Simon an awkward over-the-counter hug.

“I was able to get away for a bit. I needed to come visit you, of course,” Simon replied, giving Ebb a smile that Baz had never seen before. Simon looked healthy. He looked _alive._

“What can I get you both?” She asked, typing in something to the iPad.

“Mocha for me. Hot, please. And every last sour cherry scone you have.” Simon shoved his hand in his pocket and his face dropped. “Shit, um, neverm-”

“Pumpkin Mocha Breve for me, please,” Baz interrupted, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Baz, wait - ”

“I got it, Snow, don’t worry.” Baz handed her the money and gave her a larger-than-necessary tip in her tip jar.

Ebb smiled, “thank you, sweetie.”

As they moved to the end of the counter, Simon frowned at the other boy. “You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
Baz shrugged, “I know.”

Minutes later, both boys received their drinks, Simon also possessing a large bag of scones. Simon took a sip of his drink and shivered, the coffee warming him up. As they started back down the sidewalk, Baz was offered a scone. He declined, but took the bag from Simon so that the bronze-haired boy could eat without any trouble. “Baz,” his mouth was full of scone as he spoke, “you have to eat at least one or I’ll feel _really_ bad for letting you pay for all of this.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. And don’t eat with your mouth open,” Baz chuckled, trying to reprimand the boy, but failing at how adorable Simon was being.

“Yes, mum.” Simon playfully shoved Baz. As they continued their journey to the hospital, Simon stayed close, their arms bumping into each other as they walked.

They were able to sneak back to their floor of their hospital, but not before being scolded about their loud, lively banter. There was a warm feeling washing through Baz. They were finally on the right path toward friendship, if they weren’t already there.

As they stepped out of the lift onto their floor, Baz’s laughter died. Agatha was leaning against the receptionist desk, scrolling through her phone. “Hey Ags,” Simon greeted her, with a lot less enthusiasm than he had when talking with Baz.

He went over to the girl and pecked her on the lips, causing a comfortable expression on her face. “Hey Simon, where’ve you been?”

The patient looked back at Baz, then back at his girlfriend. “Baz and I went to Ebbs. For scones and coffee.” He offered Agatha a scone.

She kissed him again before taking a bite of her scone, leading Simon to her room. Simon looked back once more, but Baz was already walking away.

-*-

When Baz passed by Room 818, everything from earlier that day came crashing back to him. He peered inside, almost being hit by a nurse exiting the room. Baz whipped his head back quickly, while the nurse jerked back as well. An elephant stuffed animal fell from a large, brown box that she held in her arms. Before she could try again to make her way out of the room, Baz stepped in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“We have to get the room cleared out for a new patient,” she explained.

This time, as she walked out of the room, Baz let her. He was in complete shock. In the back of his mind, he knew it was going to happen eventually. Of course they would need to make room for more patients but… so soon? He had just gotten the news this morning _(was it really only this morning?)_ and they were already getting her room ready for someone else. Why couldn’t get wait just a little bit? In her memory?

But that’s not what they do. They take care of sick patients. When they have new kids, they need more room.

Baz picked the elephant off the floor and held his close to his chest as his legs carried him into the half-empty room. With a free hand, he picked up one of the boxes strewn on the floor and placed it on the bed, going around the room to put her things away. Lavender the Elephant was the first thing in the box.

Each item he picked up, he examined thoroughly, as if trying to learn just a little bit more about the young girl. Some of Baz’s favorite things were small plastic flowers, a petit baby doll that looked worn and well-loved, and a blanket with teddy bears all over it and silk on the edges.

Box after box, the room slowly looked less lively, less important. Box after box, Baz felt his strength chip away again.

He saw a pile of papers on the bedside table, the top paper looking familiar. He grabbed the stack and looked at each picture, finally able to curl up is lips just slightly, into a smile.

He carefully flipped his way through the drawings. Some were drawn with markers, some with crayons, others with colored pencils. Drawings of her family, the drawing of her dream house, all the dogs she wanted. When Baz reached the last drawing, his heart shattered.

There was a drawing of a little girl that Baz immediately recognized as Natasha. Next to her was an older boy. His hair was black and up in a bun. He had a white shirt, a red jumper, and black pants. Underneath the boy, in wobbly cursive, it read _“My Favorite Volunteer Baz.”_

The volunteer sank to the floor and curled his knees to his chest, tears flowing down his face. He tried to keep quiet, as he didn’t want the staff or patients to find him in the position he was. He was too vulnerable. A couple of stray tears found their way onto the page, luckily avoiding the marker on the paper.

A few more sobs wracked his body before he felt arms wrap around him for the second time that day. He knew it was Simon. He wasn’t sure how, but something in the back of his mind told him that it was the bronze-haired patient he had grown to care for.

Simon didn’t say anything. Almost as if he was afraid that Baz was as fragile as glass and was about to break at any moment.

But he already had.

“I-I’m just sick of everyone important l-leaving me,” he hiccupped, “I hate this.” The last part was almost inaudible.

“Did she draw that?” Simon’s voice was warm and soft.

Baz barely moved his head to nod.

“You were special to her, Baz. Remember that. You were so special to her.”

This made Baz cry harder. Tears were flowing down his face violently, which made Simon rub his hands up and down the other boy’s arms. Simon always seemed to be there for him when he broke. Simon was always there at Baz’s most vulnerable. Simon was the one with cancer and yet, he went around being the hero for everyone else.

“I’m s-sorry you have to deal with m-me,” Baz mumbled.

Simon shook his head. “It’s nice to look out for someone else, for a change. It gets annoying when everyone is always in your face asking how you’re doing, because you don’t want to be a burden. You don’t tell them to leave you alone, or that you need a huge, or just a shoulder to cry on, because you don’t want to bother them,” he took a breath, “so seriously. I’m not ‘having to deal with you.’ I _want_ to be here. I _want_ to take care of you, okay?”

Baz felt something warm against his temple; almost like a kiss. But he told himself he was just imagining it. After a few more moments of silence, Simon carefully let go of Baz, reaching for the stack of papers in the volunteer’s hands, but leaving the one Baz most cared about. He clumsily stood up and offered Baz a hand to help him up as well, which the dark-haired boy gladly accepted.

The volunteer followed the patient back out to the front desk. While Simon laid the drawings on the desk, Baz rummaged through his messenger bag and found a binder to gingerly place the drawing inside. He took a deep breath while wiping away any lingering wetness from his eyes. “Alright?” Simon asked him.

“I’ll get there.”

Simon nodded, giving him a sad smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiques, comments, and kudos are welcome and appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Critiques, comments, and kudos are welcome and appreciated!


End file.
